Who's the Crybaby Now? (Dear Blossom)
by marisa lee
Summary: In 1969, Brick writes to his wife from a grieving base camp during the Vietnam war regarding the death of his brother. (T for theme & language)


**A/N: We're discussing the war in Vietnam in my US History class right now. A veteran came to talk to us about his experience in the war, and I was holding back tears. I've been wanting to do this for some time, but that man's speech finally encouraged me to go for it.**

**I don't own the PPG. Lyrics used are from the song Everything's an Illusion by Mayday Parade.**

**xoxo -ml**

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My dearest Blossom,

Last night was the worst night of my life. _I try to sleep, but my eyes are open. I can't speak, cuz my heart is broken. There's a bottle lying next to me, I'll down a few drinks just to keep the pain away._ You know when you wake up in the early morning, and you haven't gotten any sleep because the rain came down in buckets all night and you're cold and lonely and hurting and all you wanna do is lay there forever because you're in pain both mentally and physically, but you wake up anyways? Well, I guess you haven't, seeing as you probably woke up this (and every last) morning in your nice warm bed in your cute little nightshirt with coffee steaming in the pot and bacon sizzling in the pan for breakfast. I miss the way you stir the sugar into my coffee in my special Mickey Mouse cup. They only ever have it black here, when they do have it. And we have to drink it out of our water glasses. Some of the guys broke theirs, so now they've gotta use their hands and stuff to drink. One guy even uses his hat, the disgusting git.

I've got to get to the point of this letter before it starts to pour again or I run out of paper. You know how I love to digress. _I wanna say all the things I wanna say, I won't lie, I'll just tell them honestly. _I wish I could say that getting drafted into the exact same squad with my little brother was a blessing. Boomer isn't exactly the kind of bloke you'd like to see out here. He wasn't made to live in these conditions, not here. I wanted to see him do something with his life, like go to school or become president. But he couldn't let us be sent out to 'Nam without him. We're the dynamic trio, inseparable until the end. Thinking on that phrase now, it seems a bit ironic. We haven't seen Butch in a year. I haven't heard from him at all. I hope to god he's doing alright, but then again, he's tough. I guess it's lucky I was paired with Boomer rather than Butch. Boomer's so fragile. He's breakable.

Goddamn it all, Blossom, why'd he have to follow us here? Why'd he do it? The stupid prick, he's been doing stupid stuff ever since he got here, and now... Well. Now he's gone and got himself killed. I should say it serves him right, but I don't have that strong of a heart. _If God can take a friend away from me, then I can say all I want and he won't do anything._ We'd barely been three steps into that clearing before the VC opened surprise fire. Damn that idiot, he'd wanted to go first. There were only seven of us left, and the other guys liked to tease him. "Go on ahead," they told him. "We'll follow you right behind." So of course he did, the fool, with me in tow close behind him.

I cannot describe to you the absolute shock and pain I went through in that moment, my dear Blossom. As soon as we'd stepped into the clearing—the guys still laughing at him—down he went. I saw his smiling face, still in a laughing shock as he toppled backwards like a toy soldier. I'm not sure what came over me then. It was like some fierce creature erupted from inside of me. The guys stopped laughing and we all put on our best front to kill those damn Vietcong. I pretended not to notice the sting in my hip when I ran to Boomer's side. He breathed—barely—and I held his body in my arms as he tried to speak. The guys all stood around, marking their victories and avoiding us. The tears stain my cheeks even as I write this letter, Blossom. _My tongue is weak and every time I try to speak I can say nothing at all._ You wouldn't believe what I saw there today, what I held in my arms, what I smelled in the air and felt on his butchered skin. There was too much blood, yet even in death the kid was damn smiling. He was _grinning_, dammit. And do you know what he said to me next? As I was shushing him and rocking him in my arms with that stupid look on his face and tears and dirt smudged across mine? He lets out this choked laugh and he says "Who's the crybaby now, huh bro?"

And that was it. Those were his last goddamn words. I couldn't even think of anything to say to him before his trembling slowed and his eyes closed right before me. The guys helped me carry his body out into the trees, and I took his bag with his letters in it, promising to mail them as soon as I could.

I haven't stopped crying all day, Blossom. The guys never understood why. I lost my little brother out there. My little brother Boomer, who always hated playing guns with Butch and me and would rather play school or telephone instead. It just doesn't make any sense, Bloss. Why did they have to shoot _him_? Why did it have to be _him_? Why didn't I go ahead of the guys, why hadn't I been the one to get shot? Why sweet, innocent Boomer, who's never smoked a cigarette and never tasted alcohol, and now never will? _It's hard to think when losing someone only makes you want to scream._

It gets me thinking, Blossom. I know that's odd. But it makes me think about all the other guys we lost. I never thought about them before, you know? I never thought about how every damn one of them has family, and friends, and probably a brother just like me. Not every guy has to see their brother killed by one of those damn VC, so I guess in that sense I'm different, but it doesn't matter. They still had a story. They all lived, they all had mamas, they all had a house and a favourite sports team and they all used aftershave and cologne and they've all dressed up in a suit and gone dancing, just like when we took Boomer last summer. Well gee, I guess that'd be three summers ago now, huh? Hard to believe he was only twenty-one then. _A guy shouldn't witness his brother die at twenty-four._

There aren't any more words to describe what's happened to me today, Blossom. He's gone and it could have been me. It _should_ have been me. Goddamn, why wasn't it me?

I know he wasn't expecting that to happen... Shit, none of us ever expect it. But if I never come back and I give my soul to Vietnam like my little brother did, I want you to know that I will always love you. You're such a beautiful woman and you have the most dazzling eyes. There's not a day that goes by I don't miss you like crazy here in this hell. Now that I don't have him to keep me occupied, well... I just don't know what the hell I'm gonna do with myself. I'm fighting this war not only for America, but for you, Blossom. And now I'm fighting it for Boomer. If I make it out alive I know I'll never disappoint you again. He had so much to live for, god_dammit_, and I'm gonna make it my life goal to avenge his death. In my brother's name, I now wear his scarf around my wrist. Every shot I fire, every injury, every kill is for him.

I love you, Blossom, don't you ever forget that. I've already lost one, likely both my blood. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too. Don't forget to give the girls a kiss from me.

Your loving husband,

Brick

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_Sleep well, my friend. There will be another moment we'll meet again. Just let it go. Sleep well, goodnight, you're something to remember, I wish that you were here by my side._


End file.
